


The King's Men Revised

by xwincesterx



Series: The King's Men [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hell Flashbacks, M/M, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwincesterx/pseuds/xwincesterx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See The King's Men, stop reading after chapter 6, and come to this one for the rest. This is the version I originally wanted to do, where Castiel isn't killed off by an unsuspecting Cas-hating prompter LOL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He stood and hurried back to his brother. Still on his knees, Sam was trying in vain to reach the wound. "Sammy!" Dean shouted worriedly as he skidded down in front of him. "Sam, its gonna be okay," he told him. His blood ran cold, if that was even possible anymore. Flashbacks of a night in Cold Oak, the devastation and despair, wrecking into him all at once.

Sam was panicking, his breath coming rapidly. Dean didn't even want to look at the wound; didn't want to look away from his brother's face for even a second. "Gonna get you back, Sam. Back to the bunker. I'll patch you up, and it'll be okay," he told him, gathering him up in his arms.

The next moment found them in the library, Dean's best guess for where Castiel might be hanging out. It turns out that he was right.

"What happened?" the angel asked as he approached them.

"Sam's hurt bad," Dean said, voice shaking as he spoke. "I think we might need you to fix it this time, Cas."

"Certainly," he replied as he crouched down beside them.

"I swear I'll find you more grace if I have to," Dean continued. "No matter what happens with Chamuel. I swear it, Cas. Just please...please help Sam..."

"I'm not refusing you, Dean," Castiel replied, eyes narrowing as he appraised the older Winchester. Dean was clearly upset—terrified even—as he lifted Sam's shirts up away from the bloody wound. The younger brother fell forward then, his head leaden on Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean shook him. "Sammy, wake up, kiddo. C'mon. Cas!" he shouted as he searched for a pulse on his brother's neck.

The angel was behind Sam before Dean finished saying his name. He saw where the blood was coming from, and reached out his hand to lay it over the wound. He let the grace within him flow down into Sam, repairing all of the damage it could find.

Dean held onto Sam, one hand still clutching the hems of his brother's shirts up out of the way for Cas. His eyes were closed where his face pressed against the side of Sam's. Sam had stopped breathing before Castiel had touched him—or maybe it just seemed like he did. Dean couldn't tell. All he knew was that this wasn't right, and he was holding his own breath now, waiting and hoping and trying not to fall apart.

Then Sam's once completely pallid body was tensing up, and he was sucking in a breath like coming up out of water. Dean's eyes opened and he pulled away just enough to look at his brother's face.

The last Sam had remembered was Dean shouting to Castiel, everything sounding as though it was being said under water. The pain had been overwhelming, spreading like fire into his chest. Then there was nothing but darkness, no different than any other time he'd lost consciousness, really. Now everything felt okay. He could breathe. The pain was gone. And Dean was looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and panic, and maybe anger, too.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said in a small voice. "I didn't see him. I thought we got them all..."

"You fucking idiot," Dean said in rush of breath as he pulled Sam back into a hug. Sam was surprised to feel his brother's breath shudder from him, and he slid his arms around Dean to hold him. "What if Cas hadn't come here this week, huh?" he said, voice gruff but without enough bite. "What if we hadn't found that grace yet? What the fuck then, huh, Sam?"

"I'm sorry...Dean, I'm sorry..."

"Fuck..." Dean huffed a breath. He was silent for a minute, gears turning in his head. "Cas," he finally spoke. "Go check on Crowley. And uh...just...stay around there for a bit, okay? Till I call."

"Wait," Sam said, looking over at the angel. "Cas, are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Castiel narrowed his eyes for a moment, pondering the fact that this man who had nearly died would be asking him that question. "Healing you...depleted a portion of the grace," he told him. "However, I am okay. I should be fine for a while still."

"Thank you," Sam told him. "For helping me. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sam. Try and be more careful in the future."

"I will," Sam replied. And then the angel was gone. Sam looked to his brother who was still staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. "Dean?"

Any further questions were cut off when Dean's mouth was suddenly crushed to his. Hard, passionate, needing and wanting, Dean devoured it as he pulled Sam up off of the floor to stand. Sam went with it. He closed his eyes and held on as Dean began to peel Sam out of his button-up shirt. Suddenly Sam heard a squeaking sound beside him and his eyes shot open to look for its source. He was thrown off balance when he realized that they were no longer in the library, but in the shower room; Dean turning the faucet to turn on the water.

"Jesus, Dean!" Sam startled as the water hit him. "A little warning before zapping, please! That's cold! And I'm still dressed, dude!"

"Shut up," Dean replied softly, still busying himself with the task of getting Sam unclothed. "Just shut up, Sam."

.~*~.

The cries of Chamuel rang out when Castiel appeared in the storage unit. He grimaced at the sight. He remembered Samandriel and the state he'd found him in and rescued him from, only to be ordered to kill him in the end.

"Brother, stop this!" Chamuel begged.

Crowley turned around, only now realizing the angel was there. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was asked to come and...check in on your progress," Castiel replied.

"Well there hasn't been any yet, so you may as well bugger off," he told him as he turned back to Chamuel.

"Please, brother," Chamuel pleaded again. "Stop this..."

"You know that I can't do that," Castiel replied. "I need to find my grace, and you are our only viable clue."

"I'll take you to Nathanael!" the angel shouted. "I swear it!"

"He's lying," Crowley said.

"I'm not. I promise you. I will take you to him."

"If you're freed, you'll run to Nathanael and tell him to relocate," Crowley countered, then turned to Castiel. "You can't trust this one."

"Why don't you just tell me where he is?" Castiel questioned the other angel.

"Because the moment I do, you'll have no reason to keep me alive," Chamuel replied. "And even if I told you where he is, or this disgusting creature happens to get the information from me," he motioned to Crowley, "Nathanael will be reluctant to hand over your grace. If you allow me to take you to him, I can convince him to give it back to you."

"And how are you gonna do that?" Crowley asked.

"I'm his messenger," Chamuel spat. "If he believes the order came through Metatron, he will comply."

"If you buy into this, you're a fool, Castiel," Crowley told him.

"Don't confuse angels and demons, Crowley," Castiel replied. "You might be used to betrayal and a strong lack of loyalty, but we are different."

Crowley laughed. "Are you being serious? Have you forgotten even just the past year of your existence?"

"What assurance do I have that you're telling me the truth?" Castiel asked Chamuel.

"I promise on my grace... I will take you to Nathanael and get you your grace back. If I'm lying, and I run off, there's nothing to stop the Winchesters from summoning me again."

"You can't be considering this," Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at Castiel.

Cas held up a hand to silence him, and continued speaking to the other angel. "When we're finished, you and Nathanael will return to Heaven."

"We want to be granted pardon," Chamuel replied. "Let us stay here."

"What could you possibly benefit from staying? Metatron is locked away. You're needed up there. Both of you."

"I'm helping you in order to save my life, Castiel. At least let me live it on my own terms."

"If you stay here, I can't guarantee your safety from the Winchesters. Nor can you be allowed the opportunity for revenge upon them."

"If I promise not to touch them, will you at least let me take my chances?" Chamuel begged.

"Why are you so adamant to stay away from home?" Castiel asked, confused by the angel's relentlessness.

"I've...done things in the name of Metatron. There is going to be...animosity," he explained.

Castiel considered this for a moment. "You must know of the many things I've done," he told him. "I killed...so many of our own kind. I've disobeyed orders countless times. The list goes on, and yet...somehow our brothers and sisters have chosen to grant me forgiveness."

"Not everyone is so lucky, brother," he replied. "Lucifer did lesser things than you have. He was cast out, thrown into the darkest pits of Hell."

"A choice made by our father," Castiel replied. "He doesn't seem to be running things anymore. Not for a long time now."

"It doesn't matter. I know you're trying to convince me, Castiel, but I want to stay. Will you do this for me or not?"

Castiel took in a long breath and let it out. "Fine," he replied as he stepped forward to remove the devices from the angel.

"You're making a mistake, trench coat," Crowley said.

"The purpose of this mission is to retrieve my grace," Cas replied. "If there is a way to do it myself, I'd rather do it than to put the Winchesters at further risk."

"Risk of what, exactly? It seems they can handle themselves pretty well."

"Sam almost died today," Castiel replied, looking at the demon now. "You think Dean is unbalanced now? If he loses Sam because I run out of grace, imagine what will happen. His tether to humanity would no longer exist. Angels and demons wouldn't be the only thing on his to-do list." He pulled the last rod from Chamuel's head and went to work on the restraints. "There is more than one way to start an apocalypse," he continued. "And I believe that Dean Winchester on a rampage as a monumentally powerful demon is one of them."

"He's gonna be pissed that you went without him," Crowley said. "And he's gonna take it out on me."

"I'll likely be back before they even know I've gone," Castiel replied, helping Chamuel out of the chair. "But in the event that it takes longer than I anticipate, please tell him that I said I'm sorry. Perhaps that will...calm him down." With that, the angels disappeared, leaving Crowley alone.

"Bollocks!" Crowley growled.

.~*~.

Dean dropped the last of their sopping wet clothes into a pile beside their boots, and turned back to Sam, kissing him again as he washed away the remnants of his blood from his skin.

"Dean," Sam said softly between kisses. He was a little worried as he could feel Dean somewhere close to trembling, buzzing with some kind of energy he wasn't sure how to interpret. "Dean, are you okay?"

"You almost died," he said again. "I need to feel you. Just..let me..."

"Anything," Sam replied.

Dean pulled back and looked at him for a moment. Then he sunk down to his knees, and Sam braced himself back against the tile. "Turn around," Dean told him, looking up at him still. Sam swallowed, then slowly did as he was asked, placing his palms to the wall. He closed his eyes when he felt Dean's hands on both globes of his ass, thumbs running along the crack. Dean spread Sam's cheeks, eying the winking, pink hole before he moved forward, slipping his tongue over the rim.

"Oh my god..." Sam keened, his forehead pressing into the wall as his brother's tongue slipped inside of him.

.~*~.

"Castiel," Nathanael greeted. He was in a tall, lanky vessel dressed in a blue suit with pinstripes. The interior of the house they were currently in was mostly white, ordained with intricately carved wooden trim around the large fireplace they stood in front of. "Chamuel has assured me that I'm no longer obligated to keep your grace from you."

"I assume you wish to stay here as well," Castiel replied.

"On the contrary, I'm itching to get home," Nathanael told him with a grin. "I didn't much care for Metatron, and I didn't want to choose sides, but there wasn't much choice with the power he had."

"Why didn't you return once he was imprisoned?" Castiel asked with narrowed eyes.

"I had orders," he replied with a shrug. "A soldier doesn't abandon orders just because his commanding officer has been lost. He waits for orders from the new boss. I have yet to receive any."

"There is no...new boss," Castiel told him.

"I heard they were trying to convince you to take the job," he said with a lazy grin.

"I declined. I...just want to be an angel. I just want my grace back; to get back to being what I was meant to be."

"The protector of your charge," Nathanael surmised. Castiel met his eyes, but didn't reply. "Word is, he died. Now he's some kind of...super-charged demon running around destroying all of the strays." Castiel looked away. "Well there's nothing to be ashamed of there, brother," he said with a smile. "I admire the aspiration. What's the saying? 'When life gives you lemons'?"

"He's doing good works, despite his current...situation," Castiel told him. "But his ultimate goal is to be rid of the Mark so that his brother can cure him without further complications."

"Ah yes...Cain." He bent his head closer toward Castiel and whispered. "I've been keeping my eye on that one, myself."

"You know of his location," Castiel surmised.

"Well," Nathanael straightened back up, "I am the master of all things hidden."

"I would be...most appreciative if you could assist us, when the time comes," Castiel said. "There's more to the situation than you might think."

"Castiel, I'm not the type of person to do favors," he replied. "However...I suppose in a way I owe you. I've been keeping your grace from you for a long while, even if it wasn't a personal choice." He pulled the vial from the chain around his neck, and it glowed brightly in the presence of its owner. "Call on me when the time comes, brother," he said with a warm smile, then pulled the vial from the chain and threw it to the ground.

The grace, now free, rose up and into Castiel, and he felt the warmth and peace of it as it filled him up. He felt whole again, and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. Then something was wrong, warning him. The extra grace within him was shouting out like a siren as it could sense the presence of danger; an angel sword coming at him from behind.

Cas spun around in time to grab onto Chamuel's wrist before he could thrust the blade into Castiel. "I should have known you would stab my in the back," he told him, then allowed his own sword to drop into his hand from his sleeve.

"Wait!" Chamuel protested. "Wait, I'll go home! I'll go to Heaven!"

"If there is anything I've learned over my years on this plane, it is the loose ends with which men hang themselves," Cas replied before plunging the sword into Chamuel's chest. When the dead angel dropped to the floor, Castiel turned to Nathanael. "That was a quote from Zelda Fitzgerald," he told him calmly, with a hint of sheepishness.

Nathanael, amused, smiled and let out a small laugh.

.~*~.

Dean had Sam wet and stretched and ready for him, constant moans escaping him where he stood up against the wall. Dean abandoned his administrations and stood, turning Sam to face him so that he could kiss him again.

"Dean...Dean, I want you," Sam spoke, words devoured by his brother's mouth. "Please..."

"Bedroom, Sammy," Dean replied, reaching over to turn the water off before he brought them to his room. Sam was used to it now, the instant traveling. The fact that Dean could pick him up and plant him on the bed as if he weighed nothing, was still taking a little getting used to. He spread his legs wide as Dean climbed over him onto the bed. Once between his brother's legs, Dean slid his hand up Sam's hard, leaking cock where it lay against his stomach, causing Sam to suck in a breath through his teeth. He leaned down over Sam and laid his forehead against his. "I love you so much, Sammy," he told him in a shaky voice, eyes wet.

Sam blinked back the sudden stinging in his own eyes as he looked into Dean's. His hands came up to rest on Dean's shoulders. "I love you too," Sam replied. His hands moved up to Dean's face and pulled him down so that he could kiss him again. "More than anything," he said against Dean's lips.

Dean's arms snaked around Sam, between his back and the sheets, as he pressed the length of his hard cock into Sam's and groaned into the kiss. He felt when Sam pulled his knees back.

"C'mon, Dean," he said as he bit down on his brother's lower lip. "Want you. Now."

Dean growled as he reached for the lube on the side table, still sitting there from last time. He poured a generous amount into his palm and then coated his cock before lining himself up. Then he pressed in slowly, waiting for Sam to relax around him this time. Which consequently didn't take long at all.

"C'mon," Sam repeated. "Fuck me...Want you to make me feel it for days..."

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean said, burying his head in the crook of Sam's neck as he pressed all the way in. "Oh fuck...so fucking tight..."

.~*~.

"Perhaps I should have let him go back," Castiel pondered aloud as he stared down at Chamuel's empty vessel.

"You said it yourself," Nathanael replied, "Loose ends and whatnot. I happen to agree with you, by the way."

"I...appreciate you're reassurance," Castiel said with a sigh. "I'm just so tired of the killing. I thought it would be finished once Metatron was locked away."

"But you've got yourself a whole new set of problems, now," Nathanael said.

"Yes," Cas replied. "I just wish I could fix everything. I'm not certain that going to Cain will actually solve our current dilemma."

"You expect him to take back the Mark," he surmised.

"He will be reluctant to do so."

"Dean made a promise to him, you know," Nathanael told him. Castiel's eyes narrowed as his head titled just a little to the side, in question. "Dean promised that when he was through killing Abaddon, he'd find Cain and kill him." Castiel looked away for a moment in thought. "You know...whomever Dean give that Mark to will have that power," he told him. "He will have those same urges to kill, that same rush once it's been done. Cain only ever gave it to Dean once he was truly satisfied that Dean was worthy to take it; able to handle it. And he can, Castiel. Especially now that he's a demon."

"That's exactly the reason he doesn't want it," he replied. "Dean despises what he's become. He's simply taking advantage of the power while he has it. Like you said, 'when life gives you lemons'."

"Getting rid of the Mark won't change that."

"It will," Castiel replied with confidence. "They know how to cure a demon. It was...the last Trial, though Sam was stopped before he could complete it..."

"And they don't want to cure him while he still has the Mark," Nathanael understood. He took a deep breath and let it out loudly. "This is not something I can answer for you..."

.

.~*~.

"Fuck, Dean! Oh fuck!" Sam shouted as his brother pounded into him, ropes of come streaking his chest, unintelligible words coming from Dean as he followed him over.

They laid there like that for a while, breath returning to them slowly. Dean placed kisses up his brother's chest, lapping up the come before he met Sam's mouth again. "Mmm...know what's good after great sex?" he asked. "Pie."

Sam laughed. "I doubt you need a reason for pie."

"You're right. I don't. But you were supposed to have lunch."

"Lunch is pie, then?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Dessert. Comes after lunch, genius. You wanna come down to the kitchen with me, or want me to bring something up?"

"You're offering to wait on me?"

"Offer taken back. Come on," Dean said as he rolled off of the bed and went to the dresser to pull out some clothes. "Here ya go," he said as he threw a pair of folded jeans and a dark blue tee shirt at him.

"Boxers," Sam requested. "Top drawer."

"You really need underwear?" Dean asked with a raised brow.

"I...yeah actually. Chaffing isn't worth the easier access," he said, shaking his head.

"Fine," Dean sighed and threw him a pair of black underwear. "All my crap is in my room. I'm gonna go change. Meet you in the kitchen."

Sam watched him as he walked out of the room, and smiled to himself before he pulled on his boxers.

.~*~.

"Why don't we sit, Castiel," Nathanael offered, gesturing to one of the armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace. "I was going to have tea before you showed up. Would you care for some?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Castiel replied as he took his seat.

Nathanael sat down across from him and picked up the still steaming teapot, pouring himself a mug full. "I know we don't require such sustenance, but I've grown quite fond of Earl Grey," he told him.

"I know you don't understand why I'm so insistent in finding a solution to Dean's problem," Castiel began.

"Oh, Castiel," he said with a sigh, sitting back on the chair with his cup. "I've been holding onto that grace long enough to know its secrets. It's shown me things. I know what those boys mean to you. Especially Dean."

"Then you do understand."

"I do," he nodded. "But I'm not sure how to help."

"The only viable solution would be to rid of the Mark completely; to destroy it somehow."

"You would need God for that, I think," Nathanael replied, then took a sip of his tea.

.~*~.

"Dude, it's been...well over six hours," Dean said as he glanced at his watch, a forkful of pie in his other hand where he sat across from Sam at the table. "Why aren't you jonesing?"

Sam had been ready to take a bite of his sandwich, but paused at the question, as if just now realizing the fact to be true. "I...have no idea," he replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. "It's like it's...gone."

"How is that even possible?" Dean tilted his head. "You didn't go through any detox. No withdrawal symptoms."

"Maybe...maybe when Cas healed me...he somehow healed that too?" he theorized. "I mean...we never tried it before, did we? Maybe he didn't even know he was doing it..."

"Friggin' weird, man," Dean said, shaking his head. "Hell, we should probably go check on him. Christ...I sent him away like an hour ago. Crowley's probably driving him nuts."

"Or the other way around," Sam said with a laugh, pushing away from the table as Dean did. He prepared himself for the fast-travel, closing his eyes when Dean grabbed his shoulder, and picturing the storage unit so he would have his bearings when he opened them again.

"What the hell?" Dean yelled, and Sam opened his eyes to see only Crowley in the room. "Where's Chamuel?"

"I couldn't stop Castiel," Crowley defended. "The idiot let him take him to Nathanael, or at least that's what he said. They've been gone a while. He said if you beat him here, to tell you he was sorry. So...don't shoot the messenger, eh? It was out of my power to stop him."

"You're the one who had to work alone!" Dean shouted. "This is the kinda crap that happens when I ain't lookin'!"

"I'll help find him, all right?" Crowley offered. "I tried to tell him not to listen to the little twit, but he kept on. Told him he was shifty, that one. Cas seemed determined to get his grace back without the two of you. Didn't want you in danger and whatnot."

Dean growled and crouched down to scratch out part of the devil's trap. "You go find him, damnit!" he shouted as he stood back up. "If he's in trouble, you get back here and tell me where he is, pronto."

"Yes, your majesty," Crowley said with a bow, and then disappeared.

"Is it weird that I find it kinda hot that you have that kinda control over him?" Sam asked.

Dean shot a glare at his brother. "Dude...he friggin' left without us," he said, still angry, but softer-spoken with his brother.

"Cas is strong, Dean," Sam assured him. "He can take care of himself. I'm sure he had good reason to trust Chamuel."

Dean took a calming breath, allowing Sam's words to absorb for a moment.

.~*~.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Crowley asked incredulously, where he watched Castiel and Nathanael sitting in front of the fireplace. "I luck out and follow this Chamuel moron's bloody trail to find him dead, and the two of you talkin' over tea!"

"We're discussing important matters," Castiel defended.

"I don't care how important the matters are," he replied angrily. "You left me there alone and they came back; you nowhere in sight and Chamuel missing. I told you it would happen, and I told you they'd be angry with me, and now I'm supposed to trace you down and take you back to them."

"Oh really, Crowley," Nathanael said with amused smile. "You're taking orders from the Winchesters now?"

"Not takin' orders, Natty," Crowley sneered in reply. "We've got an agreement's, all." Nathanael let out a small laugh, a hand covering the evidence of it.

"You two...know each other?" Castiel questioned.

"We used to play hide-and-seek," Crowley said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What was that, a hundred or so years ago?" Nathanael mused reminiscently.

"Pre-Winchester days," the demon said with a shrug. "Things were a lot less chaotic back then."

"Well it's not really their fault," Nathanael said. "Their destinies were planned out for them before they were even created."

"Yeah, yeah. Targets of Heaven and Hell and Fate and blahdy blahdy blah... One big supernatural Days of Our Lives," Crowley sighed.

"Too bad nothing could've been done about free will, eh?" Nathanael said with a laugh. "I'm sure no one planned on the two of them being so strong with it."

"If they didn't have that strong will," Castiel interjected, "The apocalypse would've happened."

"I was being rhetorical," Nathanael told his brother. "I do enjoy the world the way it is. Or rather...the way it was, anyway. Before everything began free-roaming the place."

"Then I suppose you'll be ecstatic to hear that Dean plans to wipe everything off of it," Crowley told him.

"I am," Nathanael replied. "Quite, actually. Except I'd rather he wait until I'm back home. You think he'd give me the same kind of deal he gave you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed for a moment. "How do you know about that?" he asked. "Never mind. I don't even want to know." He sighed. "You'd have to have something to offer him. Something worth letting you come around."

"Aside from what I already told Castiel I'd help with," Nathanael pondered. "Hmm...I do believe I have something that would be a fair bargain. Although it would require Castiel, and you," he said to the demon.

"Me?" he raised his brows.

"You and your little...demon GPS tracking ability, being their king and all."

"I'm already giving them coordinates, so you'll have to find your own bargain-"

"It would be part of a spell, Crowley," the angel interjected.

"A spell to do what, exactly?"

"Spontaneously destroy all demons and angels that aren't where they belong," Nathanael replied quite calmly, maybe even amused.

Castiel's brows pinched as he considered his brother's words. "There's a spell for this? It sounds like another trial. Do you have another tablet?"

Nathanael laughed. "Those tablets...they're a bit much, don't you think? And the Trials? They're suicide for whomever performs them. You think the demon tablet Trials were bad, you should've seen the real angel tablet Trials.

"No, the spell was created as a fail-safe, for if and when the tablets fell into the wrong hands. You see...the tablets can't be kept in Heaven or in Hell for very long. They're disintegrate. Not many know this," he told them, and both Castiel and Crowley shared a slightly apprehensive, knowing look. "I wasn't going to say anything, seeing as I think it'd be the best thing that could happen, really."

"What do you mean, they can't stay in Heaven or Hell?" Crowley asked.

"Because, you numbskull, what's the point in having a key to closing the gates, if the instructions are within the walls? It's quite amusing, really. I mean...if we'd ever been able to hide them in Heaven, don't you think that that's exactly where they'd have been?"

"All right, fine," Crowley muttered. "Guess I have something else to put on the to-do list. So what's the bloody spell, then?"

"If I told you, what's to stop you from sabotaging it?"

"Dean fucking Winchester, that's who," he replied without hesitation. "And secondly, I'm a hundred percent for this little union of wiping out all the disobedient little snots still walking around like they have a soul's-worth of free will. As long as I get to survive it, that is."

"Everyone participating in the spell is immune," Nathanael replied, "Which is why I'll be safe at home before it starts."

"Why has this never been attempted before now?" Castiel asked.

"Other than the fact that you would need a willing angel and a willing demon? Because for one, Cain was hiding. And the other, there's only one remaining abomination of Azazel left..."


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell is this, Cas!?" Dean protested when he and Crowley showed up with a third person, currently unknown to the Winchester brothers who both stood in the library with angry looks on their faces.

"This is Nathanael," Castiel told them. "He's going to help us."

"What happened to not giving away the location of the bunker to anyone else?" Sam questioned just as angrily.

"Helloooo," Nathanael said, raising a hand beside himself. "Angel of all things hidden! I would've found it if I'd known to look."

Dean's eye twitched. This one kind of reminded him of someone else. "Yeah well, awesome," Dean replied sarcastically.

"Why did you need to come here, specifically, in order to help us?" Sam asked, a little more calm now.

"There's a way to finish the mission quickly, without risking anyone's—especially Sam's—life," Castiel replied for Nathanael. "There's a spell, and all of the ingredients are in this very room. Except..."

"Except what?" Dean asked skeptically. "Blood of a virgin? Slain first born?"

"Sam will need to drink," Castiel replied.

They were silent for a moment. Dean read into that silence. "You're talkin' blood, right? No tequila parties?"

"I vote for a tequila party before doing the spell," Crowley said as he raised his hand and looked around at the others.

"Sam's clean right now somehow," Dean told Cas, ignoring Crowley's comment. "When you healed him, you healed...like...everything. Cleaned it right outta his system. Can you do that again? When this is all said and done?"

Castiel looked momentarily confused. "I was unaware I'd done that," he admitted. "I only meant to heal his wound. I'm not certain that it would work a second time."

"Ridding demon blood from a human is much like healing him from any virus," Nathanael said. "You just have to know where to look. I'm guessing that you went for the emergency 'heal-everything-wrong' route in the time-sensitive situation. That might've worked with whatever little amount he'd had in his system. But after the spell, you'll need to use location tactics. It'll be all over his system, even though he'll be depleting its power during the spell. I can help... Of course, I'll need to be granted access to return..."

"He wants a deal like you gave me," Crowley chimed in.

"No way," Dean replied without hesitation. "I ain't even happy about that one."

"Hold on," Sam interjected. "Just...maybe this could work," he told his brother.

"What? How is letting any of those douche-bags roam around 'working'?" Dean objected.

"Dean, he's helping us. This could take...forever without the spell."

"Did I mention I know where Cain is?" Nathanael spoke up. Both brothers turned to look at him again, eyes slightly widened. "Because I know where he is. I'm the-"

"Angel of hidden stuff, yeah, we got it," Dean said. "So you're what...helping us out with this spell, helping Cas heal Sam, and taking us to Cain, and we're supposed to buy that all you want is access to ape-world?"

Nathanael's brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly to the side, reminding Dean a bit of Cas. "All?" the angel said. "I think it's a lot to ask, really. Letting an angel you barely know anything about have the freedom to walk amongst you as he pleases, especially when you're so adamantly and blatantly against us doing so, is the biggest thing I could possibly ask of you."

Dean considered this for a moment, sharing a glance with Sam as they thought it over. Sam seemed okay with the idea, in the manner that he wasn't making a bitch-face or looking overly anxious.

"Okay," Dean said after a moment. "But since it does mean that much to you, we need something else..."

.~*~.

An hour later found Dean filling half of a gallon jug with his own blood. A normal human would be dead at this point. Losing even a quarter of that amount of blood would take several weeks to recover and replenish from. Demon-Dean, however, replenished quickly, much like his body would heal and repair itself within minutes of being wounded.

Dean could very well have filled the entire jug right then and there, but Sam didn't like the idea. He wanted him to wait; wanted to make sure that if by some miraculous chance they could do everything in one shot, Dean's body would be in good enough shape to survive being cured. Of course, thinking like that could only lead to disappointment. There was no way they'd finish everything so quickly. There was no guarantee that finding Cain would fix anything at all.

So Dean sat at the table, waiting for his demon blood to replenish itself. Sam had prepared them both dinner, wanting Dean to eat for the same reasons he wanted him to be careful with his blood. He looked down at his meal, a sandwich stacked fairly well, that he knew his human would be gladly tearing into by now. But he wasn't hungry. Then again, he wasn't not hungry either. It was strange and also kind of terrifying in a way, knowing it had been several days since he'd last eaten, yet not even being able to recall what it felt like to want to eat.

It didn't matter though. Sam wanted him to eat, and if that would make him happy, Dean was willing to do it. He picked up the sandwich and eyed it for a moment, then glanced up when he felt eyes on him. Crowley was seated at another table looking bored, his chin resting on a propped up hand, and he happened to be looking at Dean.

Dean paused with the sandwich just centimeters from his mouth, and narrowed his eyes at the other demon. "What?" he asked.

"Oh," Crowley seemed to come out of his daze. "Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude on the ham sammy hour. I suspect you won't enjoy it nearly as much as you used to, though."

Dean glanced to Sam, who merely raised a brow as he continued eating. Then he looked to Cas, who suddenly closed his eyes, brows pinching. "Cas?" he questioned, wondering if he was in pain again.

The angel rose a hand to his head. "It's begun," he told him. "The announcement..."

Dean looked at him for another moment before resuming his previous task. He kept glancing to Sam, who seemed curious as he watched the angel who was hearing things that they could not. They were almost finished with their meal when Castiel opened his eyes and looked over at them, seeming confused.

"What is it?" Sam asked him.

"That was...not what I expected to hear," Castiel replied. "Hannah has ordered that...any angel who refuses to comply with the new rule, should stay on earth, and those who can comply must immediately return to Heaven or face dire consequences."

"What new rule?" Dean asked.

"That the Winchesters are off limits from this point on," the angel replied...

.~*~.

"That was Hannah's wording, not mine," Nathanael insisted when he returned to the bunker to help them prepare for the spell.

"Yeah well, hopefully it was taken seriously," Dean stated flatly.

"Six of us actually left," Nathanael replied.

"Left?" Cas questioned with a furrowed brow. "You mean Heaven?"

"Apparently the Winchesters are too tempting to some to make such a promise," Nat commented.

"Or they had orders involving us," Sam suggested. "Orders they couldn't back out of."

"Orders they'll never be able to follow through with," Dean said as he placed a full jug of his blood in front of Sam on the table. "'Cause they'll be toast."

"My favorite kind of angel," Crowey chimed in. "Extra crispy. Now...can we get on with it?"

"In a hurry to get back to Hell?" Dean asked with a raised brow.

"It's a bit feathery in here for my liking," the demon replied. "That and I'm bored. Let's start with the fireworks already."

"Sam has to drink up, first," Nathanael said.

"And what about the rest of us?" Castiel asked.

"You'll wait patiently," Nathanael replied with a raised brow.

.~*~.

When Sam was finished drinking the massive amount of Dean's blood, it left him in some sort of strange trance. He was seated cross-legged on top of one of the library tables, his arms draped over his knees as he stared ahead of him.

Dean was worried as he appraised his brother's state. "Sam?" he almost whispered, not expecting a response. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

"I hear you," Sam replied softly.

"What's goin' on, man?" Dean asked.

"I can...see everything," Sam replied, his eyes flitting back and forth in front of him as if looking at thousands of things the rest of them couldn't see.

"You're friggin' tripping balls," Dean said with a shake of his head.

"On the contrary," Nathanael spoke, "He's actually seeing everything." Dean looked to the angel with both question and annoyance. "Your blood in combination to what Azazel made him, makes Sam into a...sort of telescopic machine, capable of things that...quite frankly, I'm not entirely certain; not as far as the extent anyway. But this is where the rest of you come into play.

"Sam will need a map; one for the demons and one for the angels. Their life forces will become clear to him once each of you are touching him," he told Castiel and Crowley. "You'll each place a hand on his shoulder."

"What about me?" Dean asked impatiently.

"You'll sit in front of him," Nathanael told him. "Take his hands in yours and give yourself over to him."

"What?"

"Offer up your abilities to him," the angel elaborated.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Dean asked frustratedly.

"Simply to open yourself up to him, and offer whatever he needs to use."

"I don't know how to do that."

"You'll know when it comes. You'll feel a pull, and you'll feel the instinct to pull back. When that happens, you just need to remember not to pull back. Let him take it."

"Take it? You mean give him the Mark? No fucking way in hell!"

"No, Dean," Nathanael shook his head. "He'll use the power of the Mark. His blood and your blood are combined within him right now. His abilities heightened to pinpoint even the most microscopic entity, to use his mind's focus to destroy, and your incredible smiting power, make him a highly lethal weapon against these beings."

Dean breathed for a moment, absorbing what Nathanael told him. He turned his head to Castiel, wanting to ask him if he trusted the other angel. But the look of acceptance on Cas's face told him what the answer would be.

"Okay," Dean said. "Let's get this party started." He climbed up onto the table to sit in front of Sam, crossing his own legs before reaching out hesitantly for his brother's hands. Sam was looking directly at him now, eyes searching him, seeing something Dean couldn't begin to fathom.

"It's very important," Nathanael continued, "That none of you let go of Sam. Until the spell is complete—and you'll know when it is—you mustn't break the connection."

"If we do, what happens?" Crowley asked curiously.

"Then you'll be dead before your hand is back at your side," the angel told him.

Crowley's expression blanked. He looked to Dean. "Haven't got any duct tape around, do you?"

"Don't worry," Nathanael grinned. "It would take purposeful force to pull away once the spell has begun." He turned his gaze to Sam, then. "I'll be heading back to Heaven in a moment, at which point you may begin."

"What do I do?" Sam asked, not looking away from his brother.

"Use your mind's eye," Nat told him. "When it's begun, each of them will appear to you like a beacon. All you have to do is turn them all off, much like you've been doing on your hunts with Dean lately. Do you understand, Sam?"

"Yes...I think so," he replied.

"Please keep in mind...I will not be returning. Not until this is all said and done, meaning you've detoxed and are ready for our next task. No angel will dare to return once they've seen what you've done. Not until they know it's safe again."

"Fine, man, whatever," Dean said. "Go home so we can do this."

Sam looked over at the angel for a moment before he disappeared. He thought he saw a look of worry or apprehension on the angel's face, but he couldn't let that deter the task at hand. "You ready?" Sam asked.

"Are you?" Dean asked in reply.

"Yeah. Let's do this," Sam said.

Dean took Sam's hands into his and glanced at Crowley and Castiel who stood on either side of Sam. Crowley took a breath in before raising his hand, hovering it over Sam's shoulder as he waited for Castiel to do the same. In unison, the angel and demon placed their hands on Sam's shoulders...

Everything was dark except for the beacons; like white and yellow Christmas tree lights scattered over a grid that Sam knew was actually a sort of map of the world. It was vast, spreading over land and seas to places he and Dean had never been, if only for Dean's fear of flying and the fact that some places just needed to depend on the hunters that were closer.

Sam didn't have time to think about these things, though; only that he needed to destroy these beacons. He started with the ones furthest out, imagining himself crushing them between his fingers like supernatural blood-sucking fireflies, because regular fireflies were completely innocent, and Sam wouldn't be able to crush those without feeling bad about it.

He started with one at a time, until he got the hang of it, then began crushing more as if he was using his whole fist, grabbing them in bunches and vicing them into dust. There were so many of them; so many more than he had anticipated, but he was determined beyond any feeling of being overwhelmed.

The beacons began dimming. Some began moving, scattering, trying to escape and becoming confused when there was none. Sam was too quick for them. He was ready. He was fast. Accurate. Smooth. There was no way out for them.

He realized, at some point after having started, that he could see them; their faces right before he crushed them. Each angry and resistant, fighting, and then terrified when they knew they were done for. It wasn't until he happened upon Cain—knowing it was him, though he'd never seen him face to face—and he refused to end his life. He had him in his grasp, and Cain knew it. He welcomed it. But Sam released him and moved on.

He wasn't sure how long it took. He reached the last of them, finally, and once it was finished, he felt his breath leave him. He felt pain shoot through him like salt on an open wound. Then there was darkness...

When Dean woke up, he was draped over his brother on the table, hands still entwined in Sam's. He pushed up, seeing that Sam was unconscious, and looked around the room to find both Crowley and Castiel were in a similar state on the floor.

He had no idea what the hell had just happened.

"Sam?" Dean fearfully pulled one of his hands free from his brother's, moving up to Sam's neck to check for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he found one, then looked back down at the others. Had they let go? Were they killed? Fuck. Did Sam even get to finish?

Dean jumped down off of the table to check on the angel. Crouched on the floor, he took Castiel by the shoulders and shook him. "Cas?"

The angel began to stir, a groan escaping his throat. "Dean?"

"Thank god," Dean said with a relieved sigh.

"The spell...drained me," Castiel told him as Dean helped him to sit up.

"What do you mean? You've got your grace back, Cas. I didn't think you could be drained anymore."

"It will...recharge itself. It feels...a lot like...time-travel."

"C'mon, let's get you in a chair," Dean said as he helped the angel off the floor.

"I'm just fine, thanks," Crowley grunted sarcastically as he sat up. "Bollocks! I feel like I've just come off a thirty-night bender. And I unfortunately recall exactly the last time that was..."

"Sam's still out cold," Dean said, ignoring Crowley's complaints, and returned to his brother's side. "He's breathing, but he feels too hot," he told him as he moved a hand across Sam's forehead. "The hell is wrong with him?"

"I'm not certain, as I've never participated in that spell before," Castiel replied unhelpfully.

"He's probably out because he used up all that juice in one go," Crowley suggested. "If he drained the lot of us, imagine how much he's wiped out of himself."

Dean considered Crowley's words as he absentmindedly straightened Sam's legs into a more comfortable position. "Maybe I should feed him some blood?"

"Why are all the pretty ones so dimwitted?" Crowley sighed. Dean glared at him. "He drained us all, Dean. Your blood won't do him any good right now. You'll have to recuperate like the rest of us."

"You don't know that," Dean replied with a shake of his head. "I'm stronger than you."

"Maybe so," Crowley said with a shrug, "But right now, you and I are as useless as wings on a chicken."

"Wings of a chicken," Castiel began, "Are quite delicious when pan-fried in savory sauces."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Crowley asked incredulously.

"You said that a chicken's wings are useless. I don't believe that to be true," Castiel replied.

"Fine," Crowley scoffed. "We're even more useless than wings on a chicken," he amended. "At least for a while."

"How long is a while?" Dean asked as Sam began to stir. "Cause Sam's about to wake up, and if my blood is worthless to him, and no angel will come around anytime soon, he's in for a world of hurt..."


	3. Chapter 3

"De..." Sam sluggishly pulled out of unconsciousness, at first not realizing why he felt so awful.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean's voice sounded above him, and he felt his brother's hand on his neck. "Just stay calm, okay? I'll get you upstairs where you can be more comfortable."

Sam's eyes focused on Dean just in time to watch him drop to his knees on the floor with a gasp. "Dean!" Sam pushed up from the table as fast as he could manage, moving to get down and assist his brother. "What's happening to him?" he asked anyone who was listening.

"What part of useless didn't translate for you, Dean?" Crowley asked where he now sat back against the wall. Sam's eyes shot to the other demon. "All of us are drained from the spell, blah blah blah," he spoke, moving his head side to side. "Now that you're all caught up, your big brother just tried to Star Trek the two of you upstairs without realizing exactly what I just told him not two minutes ago."

"'m fine," Dean insisted, pushing out of the curled up ball he'd pulled himself into moments ago. "Just...wasn't expecting that." He took a breath and stood up, Sam following after him, still worried. "I'm okay, Sam," he assured him. "Head just went blank for a second, like all my energy just up and went. But I'm feeling fine now."

"Yes. All your energy," Crowley teased. "I think he's finally getting it."

"Why don't you just can it for five minutes, Crowley, huh?" Dean argued.

"Oh pardon me. I've recently been drained helping you to obliterate hundreds of my own kind. I might be a little bitchy for a bit."

"Why don't you help yourself to the whiskey and chill out, then?" Dean scoffed. Then he turned to the angel. "Cas, do you need anything to...ya know...help?"

"I believe I can just...sleep it off, as you might say," he replied.

"You want my room?" Dean offered.

"I believe I'll...stay here," Castiel said sleepily. "This will be just fine."

"The floor?" Dean furrowed his brows.

"I will be fine, Dean," he replied, then abruptly fell asleep, his head supported under a folded arm on the table top in front of him.

Dean might've been more worried for the angel if he didn't suddenly notice how Sam was shaking, clinging to Dean but using a great amount of effort to hide his discomfort. "Hey," Dean looked to his brother, putting his free hand on Sam's other shoulder. "Let's get you to bed, okay?" Sam swallowed and nodded jerkily. Dean began to lead his brother toward the bedroom.

"Hey! Can I get a pillow or somethin'?" Crowley called after them. Dean grabbed a large book from on top of one of the shelves and tossed it in the demon's general direction, before continuing toward the room. "Thanks..."

Once Dean closed the door to Sam's room, he turned to him. "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to hide it from me."

A violent shudder wracked through Sam's body, his knees threatening to give out before Dean caught him. "Dean..." Sam whimpered as he clung to Dean's shirt-front.

"I know, Sam, I know," he assured, leading him to the bed to sit down. "I'm sorry. If I'd known this was gonna happen, I'd have made sure we had a stash for you. Now we're fucked until...whenever the hell one of us can recharge."

It was true, Sam realized as he thought the statement over. They'd just wiped out every other demon that was topside. There was nothing for him to drink to hold off the DTs. Sam looked down at his brother as Dean pulled Sam's boots off of his feet one by one. "You'll have to lock me up," he told Dean shakily.

Dean looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "The hell I will."

"If it gets bad, Dean, you'll have to."

Dean knew what he meant. He remembered that first horrid detox when they'd locked him away in Bobby's panic room. A feeling of dread came over him, but he needed to stay strong for Sam. "It won't get to that point, Sam," he told him as he pushed up from the floor. "I'm gonna stay with you through this. It can't take that long to recharge, right?" he said as he climbed into the bed beside him. "It's not too bad right now, is it?"

Sam assessed himself for a moment. "Just...really shaky and anxious," he replied. "My chest hurts and I kinda feel like I'm gonna throw up, but other than that... no, it's not too bad yet."

"That actually sounds pretty shitty already," Dean replied. "But uh..." He placed a hand on Sam's thigh and moved a bit closer so that he could nuzzle Sam's neck right under his ear. "Maybe I can try and distract you. What do you think?"

"Dean..."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Dean shook his head and pulled away. "I'm just not sure what to do right now."

"No," Sam said, turning bodily toward him and sliding a hand to Dean's hip. "I think it's a good idea." He grabbed Dean's wrist and placed his hand back on his thigh, and leaned in close, Dean's eyes wide open and searching Sam's. "Distract me," Sam said quietly before he closed the small distance remaining between them and pressed his lips to Dean's.

Dean allowed his brother's kiss to numb him for a moment, and then he pulled back a bit. "You sure?" he asked.

"If anything can help me feel better, it's gonna be you," he said with a kiss. "Your hands on me," he kissed him again. "Your mouth..."

Dean gave in then. "I am more than happy to test this theory," he said before gently pushing Sam to lie down. "Just promise me something." Sam looked up at him questioningly. "If something happens, you let me know right away. I don't want you associating my amazing sexual abilities with horrific hallucinations of torture or something. So uh...we need a safe word. Poughkeepsie?"

Sam smiled and huffed a laugh. "Okay."

Dean smiled calmly at him before ducking down to place a soft kiss on his lips. He moved half on top of Sam, his leg snuggling in between Sam's. "Hmm," he moaned against Sam's mouth. "What to do, what to do..." His mouth traveled away from Sam's and down to his chin, then his neck, and Sam felt his brother's hands working the fly of his jeans open. "Want me to suck you off, Sammy?" he whispered, breath hot on Sam's skin. "Maybe eat you out? You liked that, didn't you? My tongue in your tight little hole?"

"Jesus, Dean," Sam said on a release of breath. "It's like listening to dirty porn."

"Don't like it?" Dean questioned, pulling his head up to look at him with a raised brow.

"I didn't say that," Sam replied, the corning of his mouth curling up a bit.

Dean grinned. "Good. I kinda like talkin' that way to you." He kissed Sam again as he pushed hand into Sam's open pants to grab onto his hardening cock. Sam groaned into Dean's mouth, hips arching up off the mattress, craving more of Dean's administrations. Dean used his free hand to pull Sam's tee shirt up to his shoulders, then began mouthing his way down Sam's torso.

Sam closed his eyes and let himself feel Dean's lips as they moved sensually over his skin, the coolness of the air as it hit the barely-there spittle left behind, leaving goosebumps. Fingers pulled at the hem of his boxers, the head of his cock springing free under the elastic. Dean tongued the slit before sucking it into his mouth. Sam's eyes shot open to look at him, a moan escaping when he met Dean's emerald eyes staring up at his.

But then something in the corner of the room caught his eye. Sam looked over. His blood ran cold, air freezing in his chest right before a fearful sound escaped his throat.

"Sam?" Dean pulled away from his administrations at his brother's disturbed expression. He watched as Sam's breathing changed, labored and afraid as he looked wide-eyed somewhere across the room. Dean turned his head, expecting to see some kind of monster standing there. But there was nothing.

Sam, however, could see their long-dead father leaning in the corner, shaking his head with a disgusted look on his face. "What are you letting your brother do, Sam?" John scoffed. "How fucking dare you taint him with your sick freak poison blood."

"N...no," Sam said, shaking his head and trying to remind himself that this wasn't real.

"Sam?" he heard Dean say.

"P...P...Pough...keepsie," Sam stuttered, not looking away from the corner of the room.

Dean crawled back up he brother's body at the sight of tears in Sam's eyes. "Hey, hey...Sammy, it's okay," Dean assured him, his hands cupping Sam's face as he tried to figure out what was happening. "Sam, look at me," he instructed.

"You're an abomination," John's scowl kept Sam's attention. "It's your fault this happened to Dean. It's your fault he's this way. You and your freak blood. It's what killed him in the first place. And then you killed him all over again with your fucked up attitude."

"No," Sam's voice cracked as he spoke, shaking his head as the tears spilled out and down his cheeks.

"You were always such a disobedient, defiant little shit. Your whole life. And now you've gone and turned your brother into a freak just like you."

"Sam!" Dean shouted, realizing that Sam was seeing things. "Sammy, it's the DTs okay? Whatever you're seein', it ain't real!" Sam's eyes finally met Dean's tearfully. "You stay with me, you hear?" Dean told him.

Sam's hands twisted up in the front of Dean's shirt. He let out a sob, and then all at once his eyes were rolling back in his head, body violently spasming beneath Dean.

"Sam!" Fear shot through Dean like a relentless wave. He scrambled off of Sam in favor of holding him on his side, making sure he didn't bite his tongue or fall off the bed as he seized. He was so strong. Always strong like this after the blood, and Dean remembered it from before. He remembered how much it hurt to tie him down to the cot in the panic room so he wouldn't hurt himself. He remembered how hard it was to hold him down.

But Dean was stronger now. He didn't have to tie Sam down. He'd stay there and hold onto him for as long as it took. He just really hoped that this wasn't damaging his brother's brain or something. The brain stuff couldn't always be healed, and that's the kinda stuff that freaked Dean out the most.

He knew the moment the seizure stopped, and not just because the spasms slowed to nothing. But because Sam's breathing changed. It was panicked, hitching; small sounds escaping his throat that signaled his brother that he was trying not to cry.

"Sam?" Dean spoke softly, moving so that he could turn his brother onto his back and look at him. He only got a glimpse of the red, watery eyes and the look of both fear and devastation on Sam's face before he curled up into Dean, burying his face in his big brother's chest as he sobbed, hands clenching around fists full of Dean's shirts. "Sammy..." Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and held onto him. "It's gonna be okay. I've got you. It'll be okay."

Sam simply clung to his brother. He wouldn't tell him how bad it felt; how his insides felt like they were on fire, somehow still trapped in the cage being flayed apart by Lucifer. He wouldn't tell him how terrified he felt, yet at the same time feeling more brokenhearted than he could ever remember feeling before. And that wasn't fair...not at all. Because Sam's heart had been twisted and torn in ways no one should ever have to experience. He could feel Dean right there in front of him and around him, and that should be the only thing he needed; the only thing he wanted in the whole world. But the absence of his blood coursing through him was tricking his mind and body into believing that he was gone; that he was dead and not really there and everything they'd experienced over the past several days had been a lie...

Dean felt sick to his stomach at the deep, heart-wrenching sobs coming from Sam. The way he shook in his arms, how his legs scrambled to intertwine with Dean's and hang on just as tightly as his arms clung to him, made a lump grow in Dean's throat. The litany of, "Dean...Dean...Dean..." cried and whimpered from Sam's lips repeatedly, tearing at Dean's heart a little more each time.

"It's okay, Sam. 'm right here. I'm right here, baby. It's okay..." He had no idea if Sam could even hear him; no idea if he was helping the matter at all, but he refused to let go of him. He wouldn't leave him alone and chained up like he had before. It had killed something inside of him to have had to do that. He wouldn't do it again. Not ever.

.~*~.

Castiel awoke all at once, sitting straight up in the chair at the table. It took him just a moment to remember why he'd been sleeping in the first place. He turned his head in search of the others.

"Sam's been screaming and crying on and off for hours," Crowley's voice sounded somewhere beside him. Castiel looked to see him seated back against the shelf. "He's been quiet for the last few minutes, though."

Cas looked up in the general direction of the bedrooms, then zapped himself to Sam's.

"Sammy!" Dean was kneeling over his younger brother, hands gripped in Sam's shirt as he shook him. "Breathe! Damnit, Sam! Don't you do this!"

Sam was breathing, Castiel registered as he looked at the younger man. But it was in short gasps, and he could see a blue tint starting to form on his lips. He decided not to waste any more time letting Dean panic.

"Move aside, Dean," Castiel told him as he stepped forward.

When Dean startled, looking over at him with wide eyes, a mixture of anger and relief flooded his features and he moved off of Sam to kneel beside him farther away from where Castiel now stood. The angel's hand pressed to Sam's chest, his brows furrowing as he appraised the younger Winchester. "It's his heart," he told Dean.

"I don't need Dr. House, I need Cas the magical healing angel," Dean replied sternly.

Cas glanced to him with a raised brow for a moment, then dismissed the comment and began to heal Sam.

The moment Sam breathed in a noisy, deep breath, Dean grabbed onto his hand and sought out his eyes. "Sammy?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sam hadn't really been able to see it. Either his mind wasn't able to focus on it, or it really wasn't there at all until that moment. But he felt himself being pulled, and suddenly he was surrounded by thick, translucent black water, like trying to see through glycerin soap all around him. He couldn't breathe there, and there was nothing else. Only pressure pushing in on all sides of him; a feeling of dread and doom. But then something was pulling him out; pulling him up. There was light, and suddenly he was back in his room.

The relief from the misery was instantaneous. He could breathe and see and feel and none of it hurt. He could hear Dean and see him. He knew he was there. But the feeling of despair still weighed heavily inside of him, like lead filling him, tugging downward, sinking. And even though he knew that it had all just been hallucinations, manifestations in his mind from the withdrawal, he couldn't make it go away just yet.

He simultaneously felt embarrassed that he wasn't strong enough to stop it as he collapsed into his brother's chest. His body released the pain, sobbing, guttural outpouring bursts of soundless air—he could at least stop his voice—as the tears spilled like a broken faucet onto Dean's shirt.

"Cas, I thought you fixed him?" he heard his brother say, and he felt Dean's arms on his back, wrapped around him and holding him close.

"He is healed," Castiel replied. "But I can't heal the emotional reaction to what he's experienced. If I could do that, I would have helped you through your own difficult time after pulling you from the pit."

At the angel's words, Sam felt even more pain and embarrassment. He remembered clearly that rare moment where Dean opened up to him on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, telling him how much his stint in Hell had affected him; how much it hurt and how much he'd wished he couldn't feel anything at all. He remembered wanting to hold him and make it all go away, but Dean...well he had never been much of an acceptor of physical comfort when he was in pain. No matter how much he seriously needed it.

"Sonofabitch," Dean said in an exhale as he pulled Sam tighter to him. "Sammy...what'd you see?" He asked it as though Sam couldn't hear him. But Sam could hear the pain in his brother's voice; the worry. He had to pull himself together. This would pass. He needed to let him know that.

"I..I'm..." Sam tried to speak, tried to reign in the sobs that insisted on bursting out of him. "I'm...okay, De'," he told him.

"Sam," Dean's voice was a whisper as he pulled Sam away enough to look at his face, hands on either of Sam's cheeks as he appraised him.

"I'll be okay," Sam forced out, trying still to calm himself down.

"I know you will," Dean said with conviction, eyes searching his brother's with worry, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear before he pulled him back into another embrace. "I know you will, Sam." He looked back over to the angel. "I take it your mojo is back then," he surmised.

"I seem to be fully recharged, yes," Castiel replied.

"Great. Then you go tell that dumb sonofabitch that he left some important crap we should've known about ahead of time."

"Dean-"

"If he'd told me, I'd have had something set aside to hold Sam over!" Dean interrupted. "Instead, he had to go through hell for hours! Why the hell would he have left that out, huh? He could've died!"

"It's more likely he didn't know," Castiel assured.

"Didn't know what? That we'd all get drained? Or that Sam would use so much juice he'd be violently shoved into life-threatening detox status?"

"I understand your frustration," Castiel agreed. "I share it. However, we must take into consideration that this spell has never been performed before. There was no way to know."

"We should've taken precautions," Dean said, his voice now softer as though just thinking out loud, scolding himself for not having thought about it.

"Sam was already weary of the amount of blood you were giving up as it was," Castiel told him. "The last thing any of us would've thought about was you bleeding even more." Dean shook his head. "I know...that you're reluctant to be reassured that this isn't somehow your fault, Dean," Cas said, and Dean looked over at him. "I won't frustrate you further by trying to convince you. But please keep in mind that when I bring Nathanael back here, we need him in order to find Cain. You must make good on your promise not to kill him. It will solve nothing."

Dean looked long and hard at Castiel before speaking. "I think Sam and I are gonna need a little time to cool down, if you want that to happen."

"Of course," Castiel agreed. "I'll leave you to yourselves. Just...call for me when you're ready."

"Make sure Crowley is gone, too, will you?" Dean asked.

"I'll...drop him off at an Albertson's on my way out," Castiel said with a nod, then disappeared, the sound of his wings echoing in Dean's ears.

Dean's attention went completely back to his brother, then. He noticed that Sam's breathing had returned considerably back to a normal state. "Hey, you feelin' any better?" he asked carefully, and he felt Sam nod against him.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said, much more collected now as he pushed away from his brother. "I just...needed a minute to get outta that head space."

But Dean could still see the slight struggle in his brother's eyes, like any other time he was in pain, injured on a hunt and insistent that it wasn't bad. He could see how much he wanted Dean to believe him, though; that he could only keep going if he'd convinced him. So he went for another tactic. "You scared the hell outta me, Sammy," Dean told him, a hand resting in the crook of his brother's neck, thumb stroking the skin under his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Sam said in a small voice.

"Don't do that," Dean said, shaking his head. "Wasn't your fault this went the way it did. I'm just sorry you had to suffer because of it." Sam's eyes shifted in the air somewhere between them. "Dude, you can talk to me. You know that, right?" Sam met his eyes again. "Tell me whatever it is you wanna tell me. It's okay."

Sam's eyes flitted back and forth between Dean's, his own becoming wet with the memories of his withdrawal. "Just..." Sam started, then swallowed and moved closer, his hands moving up a bit toward Dean's face. "Just promise me you won't ever leave me," he said with a shaky voice.

"'s that all?" Dean said with an easy smile.

"No, Dean," Sam said, moving closer, a serious look on his face as his red eyes bore into Dean's. "You have to promise me."

"I won't ever leave you, Sammy, I swear," Dean assured him.

"No matter what," Sam's voice cracked. "No matter where you go...even death, Dean. You ever plan on sacrificing yourself—anything like that, you better include me in it. You can't leave me, do you understand?"

"Sam-"

"No, Dean!" Sam shouted, tears traveling course of previous tracks on his face again, desperation radiating from his eyes as he looked to Dean. "You have to promise me! You can't leave me here without you!"

"I'm not gonna leave you," Dean told him, grabbing either side of his face. "Sammy, I swear, I'll never leave you, okay?"

"No matter what?" Sam asked.

"No matter what," Dean replied. "Geez, Sam, what'd you see that made you so..." he began, but stopped himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Sorry. I'm sorry, man, I'm not trying to pry..."

"It was like the Cage again," Sam blurted out without hesitation this time. Dean's eyes widened in both horror and surprise, brow furrowing in anger and concern. "Lucifer...used to try and make me think that you weren't real," Sam told him. "That you were never real. Just a delusion my mind had created in order to survive the life Dad raised us in. I was always reluctant to believe him. He always prided himself on telling me he'd never lied to me. But that...that was the one fallacy he ever tried to convince me was true. And sometimes...sometimes I couldn't help but to wonder if it wasn't a lie," he admitted, his eyes falling somewhere between them shamefully.

"Sammy," Dean said almost too quietly to hear.

"It's the one thing that ever truly started to break me," Sam told him. "The one thing I ever truly loved torn away with the realization that it never existed."

"Sam, that was bullshit," Dean said a little louder.

"I know," Sam replied. "I know it was. But as stupid and fucked up as it might be, it's something that's hit pretty high up on the list of things I'm terrified of; the possibility that I'm really just...nuts," he said, meeting Dean's eyes again, "And I'm just some really whacked out episode of Criminal Minds." His brow raised with that statement, showing Dean that he knew it was silly.

"So what, you think no one ever called the men in the white coats at any point in time you've walked into a sheriff's office talking to your imaginary partner?"

"I know," Sam said with a self-demeaning laugh. "Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds that I would ever fall for it."

"I'd say it'd be pretty damn awkward to find out that you're so amazing at fucking yourself, that's for sure."

"Oh my god—shut up!" Sam scoffed, punching Dean in the collar bone before he moved to get out of the bed.

"Ow! Dude," Dean said as he rubbed the not-really-sore spot. "Don't you want me to help refresh your memory on how real I really am?" he asked with a waggle of his brow. "Might make you feel better. You know...some sexual healing," he grinned.

Sam shook his head, a smile playing on his lips as he pulled on a pair of clean jeans. "I might be okay, but I don't think my downstairs brain is gonna be functioning any time soon."

"Wait, what?" Dean shot out of the bed, suddenly serious and concerned again. "Cas said he fixed you, man. Why didn't you say anything?"

"It...it's not a dick thing," Sam glanced at him as he spoke. "My head's just not in the right place right now." He pulled a shirt on over his head and looked to his brother again, noting the...perhaps hurt look the was currently residing on his face. "Dude...it's not you."

"Okay," Dean nodded, trying to play it off.

"Seriously," he said with a small, breathy laugh as he stepped close to his brother, hands falling on Dean's waist. "I'd be more than happy to lie around and suck you off repeatedly, if that's what you'd like."

"I wouldn't exactly protest..."

"But I know where Cain is," Sam told him, "And I figured you might wanna head that way, Nathanael or not."

"What?" Dean snapped out of the lustful head space he'd somehow floated into. "You know where he is?"

Sam nodded with a grin. "And I think I know a way we can get rid of that Mark..."

.~*~.

"Dean Winchester," Cain greeted when he opened the door to the brothers. "You're a little late, aren't you?"

"Maybe just in time, actually," Dean replied. "Thanks for telling me about the whole becoming-a-demon thing, by the way."

"You didn't seem to care about the side effects at the time," Cain replied with a shrug. "I take it this is your brother," he motioned his head toward Sam.

"Yeah," Dean said with a nod. "And he's got an offer to make you."

"Offer for what? You want me to take back the Mark, right? There's not a whole lot you could say to me to make that happen."

"Why don't you invite us inside and hear us out," Dean replied.

Cain eyed them both for a long moment before taking in a breath, raising his brows and sighing. "Fine. Come in, then."

Sam followed Dean into the cottage, and Dean was a little surprised at how identical the inside of the place looked like the last place he'd met Cain.

"Would you like some tea?" Cain offered as they filed into the living room area.

"Let's just get down to business, eh?" Dean said as he sat on the couch, Sam mimicking his movements. They watched as Cain took a seat across from them, folding his hands in front of himself.

"So what's this offer you wanna pitch to me?" Cain asked curiously.

"Sam can cure you," Dean told him, getting straight to the point.

"Cure me," Cain echoed, eyes narrowing. "Cure me from what exactly?"

"I can make you human again," Sam supplied. "I can cure a demon, and you wouldn't be damned anymore."

"You can't erase a curse given by God," Cain scoffed, yet something else read in his face the brothers didn't recognize.

"You gave your curse to Dean," Sam countered.

"And you want me to take it back again," Cain retorted.

"Only after I've cured you," Sam told him. "You'd be human again. We'd hide the blade, and you'd never be affected by it again."

"But I'd still be stuck here," Cain argued. "For eternity. Don't you get it?"

"You'd rather I kill you and you go to Hell for eternity?" Dean questioned. "'Cause lemme tell you, it might get boring here, but that sure beats torture."

Cain was silent for a moment. A long, awkward moment, and Sam looked over at Dean before they both looked back to him. His face morphed from thoughtful to hopeless and then settled on resigned. "I shouldn't have expected you to keep your end of the bargain," he began, and Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Cain stopped him. "I shouldn't have given you the curse except to use it to complete you task. It's my curse to bear. It's my price to pay. I earned that Mark when I chose to save my brother. I laid my life down for him. You shouldn't pay the price for it."

Sam and Dean looked at him with complete understanding and sympathy.

"Well come on then," Cain said as he stood and held his arm out.

"Whoa whoa, hang on," Dean said as he stood. "You gotta let Sam cure you first, man."

"You think I wanna go through that again?" Cain replied. "The pull of the blade? The craving?"

"But you won't," Sam told him. "We won't let it near you. If you don't touch it, it won't affect you."

"How would you know that?" Cain questioned.

"Because Dean was fine until the moment he held that thing," Sam replied. "It was like...the first hit of the strongest drug in the world, and after that, he needed it. But before he ever touched it, it wasn't like that at all."

Cain seemed to contemplate this for a while, his surrender coming in the form of his arm dropping back to his side. "Where is the blade now?"

"It's better if you don't know," Dean told him.

"It's better if I know where to avoid going near," Cain said.

"Kansas," Sam supplied. "Never go to Kansas."

Cain clenched his jaw and nodded shortly. "So...what does this...cure entail?"

.~*~.

Ten hours later, Cain was enjoying his first sleep in thousands of years, having conked out on the couch after they'd finished. Sam was resting in the chair across from him, Dean shoving food and juice at him like a true mother hen.

"Dude, I'm fine," Sam insisted.

"Yeah well you look pale as crap," Dean replied.

"I've lost more blood on several occasions over our lifetime. I'm pretty good at recovering."

"Don't forget you'll be doing this to me once Cain takes the Mark back and we head back home. So...just humor me, alright?"

Sam huffed a laugh and took the second plate from his brother. "How long do you think he'll sleep?" he asked, motioning toward Cain's sleeping form.

"If it were me? A week," Dean replied with a small smile. "I'm definitely sleeping for a week once I'm back."

"You can't do that," Sam said, shaking his head as he looked over at him.

"Why not?" Dean asked with a raised brow.

"Because I've got plans for you, and I'm not waiting a week to carry them out," Sam replied.

Once Dean realized what he was talking about, his cock gave a little jump in his pants, his face going slack. He turned to where Cain was sleeping and walked over to him, shaking him by the shoulder. "Hey, wake up, man!" he gave a shout. "You can sleep when we leave."

Cain gave an unhappy grunt as he cracked his eyes open. "God...I forgot what it felt like to be so tired," he said as he pushed up into a sitting position on the couch. He scrubbed his hands down his face and then began to laugh. "I kinda like it," he said, surprised by his own words.

Dean gave him a halfhearted grin. "You ready?"

Cain looked up at him for a moment in confusion, but then remembered. He swallowed, eyes shifting for a moment before he stood from the couch. "I suppose I am," he replied and held his hand out toward Dean.

Dean looked at it for a moment, then looked up to Cain. "Look," he began. "I just wanna say...I appreciate everything. I mean...everything, man. I... You trusted me to take this, and now you're taking it back, and I know that's a huge thing. I know it's not what you wanted-"

"It's my burden to bear, Dean," he replied easily, a sad smile gracing his lips. "One I'm still willing to bear for my brother's soul."

Dean looked at him, eyes shining, and he didn't see that Sam was doing the same. He brought his arm up, hand gripping Cain's forearm as the other man did the same. They both bore down simultaneously as the fire-like pain began crawling over their joined skin, and Sam watched as the Mark moved, swirled and slid over to Cain's arm and planted itself to its original owner. When their arms released from one another, Cain yelled out again, his free hand gripping onto his marked arm as he doubled over.

"What's happening?" Dean asked, panicking at the unexpected turn of events.

"Dean..." Sam said as he watched the Mark on Cain's arm glow white, and then began to fall from his arm like dust to the floor. That Mark was gone. "Dean..." Sam repeated and stood, grabbing Dean's arm to make sure it hadn't somehow backfired and gone back to him. Both arms were mark-free. Both brothers turned to look at Cain, whose eyes were as wide and surprised as the men who stood before him...


	5. Chapter 5

The next twenty-four hours were spent allowing Sam to recuperate while Cain allowed his new-found, curse-less humanity sink into his mind. Opting for waiting to cure Dean in the bunker instead of trying to figure out how to get home without Dean's ability to transport them, had them preparing to leave the following day. Then Cain had asked what probably shouldn't have been a surprising favor.

"You wanna be a hunter," Dean repeated back to him, not so much a question as making sure he'd understood right.

"I could have, and probably should have been doing it all these years," Cain told him. "Instead I chose to sulk in my own bitterness and resentment. I could've done something good for the world and now I've got that chance."

"You did do something good for the world," Dean reminded him.

"I think that...that sort of backfired in the end," Cain said with a sad smile. "I want to do this, Dean."

"You realize that it's not gonna be that easy without your powers, right?"

"I know that," Cain said with a nod. "But I know how to fight without them."

"It's dangerous. You could get yourself killed."

"If I do, then so be it," Cain replied. "At least I'll go down fighting the good fight." A slight smile crossed Dean's face at the statement. "And there's nothing for me here. I don't have a death wish, but everything I want is hopefully still waiting for me in another realm that...hopefully I'll earn my way into before I finally kick it."

And Dean understood. He completely understood, and there was nothing that he could say to change that. The man had made a choice, and in Dean's eyes it was a great one. "You'll need weapons."

"I know where to find them."

"Not just any weapons-"

"I know," Cain assured him, and Dean realized that of course he knew. Probably better than anyone.

"You'll need a car."

"I don't know how to drive," Cain replied, a self-amused smile finding its way to his face. "I can learn."

"Anything you need..."

"I know where to find you," he replied fondly. "Go home and get your humanity back, Dean," he said as Sam came into the room.

"Will do. Hey uh...you make sure and check in with us, okay?" he requested. "Don't make me wonder. Sam finds jobs all the time, so when you need some direction just call."

Sam raised an inquisitive brow, but saved questions for later, as he was anxious to get back home and started. Then Cain was holding a hand out to him. Sam grabbed it and shook.

"Thank you, Sam," he told him. Sam nodded shortly and gave him a small smile. Cain shook Dean's hand next.

"You take care," Dean told him.

"You do the same," Cain replied, then let go of his hand.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm where he stood beside him, and with one final nod to Cain, they left.

.~*~.

Another long day gone by found Dean cured, and thankfully they were both ready to crash after that, because they'd both pictured spending the night a different and more taxing way, and there was no way one of them would've been able to handle being awake while the other was comatose for a good twelve hours.

Sam slept the longest, to both their surprise, and awoke to the smell of...well he couldn't really pinpoint what food he was smelling being cooked, the aroma coming up from the kitchen in waves that reminded him of being in a breakfast diner.

He pushed up out of bed and threw on a tee shirt, which apparently was the only thing he'd removed before going to bed—thank god he'd at least gotten a shower during one of the hour-long waiting periods—and quickly brushed his teeth before heading down to find his brother.

"Dude..." Sam said as he entered the kitchen. "What's all this?"

"Mornin', Sammy," Dean said with a smile before turning back to the frying pan. "Makin' breakfast. I'm freakin' starving."

"Where'd you find food? I didn't think we had much of anything."

"Had to nuke the bacon to thaw it. It was in the back of the freezer. Dude, how did we lose track of bacon?" Sam let out a small, amused laugh. "Now grab some eggs. They're getting cold," Dean told him. "There's French toast in the oven. It's done, just keeping warm."

"No way are we gonna eat all this, Dean," Sam said, still laughing a bit as he started to fix himself a plate.

"Well I sure as hell am gonna give it my best," Dean replied, then shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth straight from the pain, immediately regretting the action. "Ow! Hot!" he said, hissing around the mouthful of meat.

"Yeah hot, genius," Sam raised amused brows.

"Shut up," Dean countered before turning the stove off. "No bacon for you, now."

Sam snorted an unimpressed laugh in reply.

As the two of them ate appreciatively at the table, Sam wondered if Dean's thoughts had changed at all now that he wasn't a demon. He wondered if he still thought of Sam the same way; if he would pretend none of the sexual aspect of their relationship ever happened. As elated as he was to have his brother back to normal, Sam wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it if Dean didn't still love him like Sam loved Dean.

He tried his damnedest not to stare lovingly as Dean licked the syrup remnants from his french toast plate.

"I think my stomach's shrunk," Dean said, a little disturbed by the idea, but not wanting to let that show very much. "I could've eaten five times this much before."

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah, me too."

Sam watched as Dean eyed him for a long moment, unable to read his expression. Then Dean was getting up out of his chair and walking around the table to sit down beside his brother. He turned the chair to face him, and Sam swallowed, his mouth suddenly a bit dry.

"Listen," Dean said, his eyes flitting back and forth between Sam's, and somewhere in the air between him as he thought. "I uh...I gotta ask you something, and I uh...I don't want it to be all weird or whatever, so...just give me an honest answer, okay?"

"Yeah sure, Dean," Sam replied, brows furrowed a bit in curiosity.

"I mean it though," Dean continued. "Total honesty. I just gotta know what to do. I mean..." he fumbled quickly through the words, "I need to know if all of what we were doing was some kinda messed up place you were in, and I know you said it wasn't about the blood, but I mean...I want you to say it now that we're both—ya know—back to normal. Because if you don't want that anymore, you gotta just tell me. Like...just say it; rip it off like a bandaid, and don't sugar coat it or—mpph!" his sentence cut off when Sam crushed his mouth to his.

And just as quickly, Sam pulled away again, nervous and blushing, eyes moving around like he was afraid of the consequences. "There's my answer to that," Sam told him, then met his eyes. "So um...what about you? Now that you're not a demon anymore, do you still...want that?"

Dean was still just sitting there staring at his brother, stunned stupid-happy that Sam had kissed him, filled with so much relief that he still wanted it. And really there was no sign of his current emotion on his face, which made Sam feel awkward and even a little afraid. Then Dean was pushing up out of his chair, and Sam's brain was going a million miles a minute, eyes searching the air in front of him.

"Finish your breakfast, Sam," Dean said flatly as he headed casually back to the kitchen. "You need to fuel up for the day I have planned for you."

It took a moment for the statement to register with Sam. Once it did, something in him flared hot and straight to his groin. He began quickly finishing his toast...

.~*~.

When Sam was finished with his meal, he brought his plate and fork into the kitchen, as Dean had finished cleaning everything else up. He glanced to his brother as he approached the sink.

"Wash that," Dean told him. "If you leave it there dirty, it's gonna be hell to clean by the time we're done today." Sam turned to face the sink again, a shiver running through him again, and he turned on the water to begin the task. The dish is sudsy and scrubbed by the time he feels Dean's arms slide around his middle, and he nearly drops it when Dean is pressed up against his back. "You got no idea how relieved I am that you still want this," Dean told him, breath hot on Sam's earlobe. Sam wanted to reply with "You're relieved? I'm relieved!" but he couldn't find his voice in that moment as Dean's fingers found the fly of Sam's jeans. "It took every ounce of strength not to just jump you once I woke up this morning," he told him as he slid a hand just inside, resting over Sam's quickly-wakening cock through his boxers. "Careful, don't drop that!" he warned as Sam's grip on the plate faltered.

"Dean...just..." Sam whined, shivering as Dean's hand stroked over him again. "I can't concentrate."

"Oh," Dean replied, moving his hand away from Sam's cock and up over his navel instead. "That better?" he asked as he pressed fully against Sam's back, half-hard cock pressing against the curve of Sam's ass. Sam closed his eyes as Dean's mouth nuzzled into the crook of his neck right where it met his shoulder.

"Fuck the dishes," Sam said, dropping the plate into the sink and turning around in Dean's arms.

"That wasn't exactly what I had planned, but..."

"Damnit, Dean," Sam cut him off before pulling him in to kiss him. "You're such a jerk," he said between kisses, teeth biting and pulling at his brother's bottom lip.

"You love it," Dean replied breathily.

Sam growled, both frustrated and too turned on to argue about it. He began clawing at the fly of Dean's jeans as he dove back in to devour his brother's mouth. Dean groaned into it, his hands tugging at Sam's shirt, then abruptly stopping the process and simply gripping onto either side as Sam's hand wrapped around his dick. "Want you, Dean," Sam said against Dean's ear, hot breath shock-wired straight to his cock, causing a bead of precum to drip out and onto Sam's thumb.

"Suddenly I kinda miss being able to zap us up to the bedroom," Dean said with a smile playing on his red, swollen lips.

Sam smiled back, pressing his forehead against Dean's. "You can fuck me wherever you want," he told him. "Don't need the bedroom."

"Don't tempt me," Dean breathed against Sam's mouth before crushing his own against it again. Sam moaned into the kiss, his hands snaking around to Dean's ass and pulling him harder toward him, splaying his legs open to make a place for him. "Nuh uh," Dean said, suddenly pulling away, yet clinging to Sam at the same time as his eyes tried to focus on him. "Bedroom. Now. C'mon," he said as he tugged him, walking backwards for a moment before he turned to lead the way.

"Spoil sport," Sam mumbled halfheartedly as he followed along, stripping out of his shirt as he walked.

"You underestimate how much earlier I woke up than you," Dean replied, following suit with shedding his clothing. By the time they stepped through Sam's bedroom door, Dean was nearly tripping over his jeans as he hop-stepped out of them. Sam was smiling, amused, behind him as he dragged down his boxers. When Dean turned around and saw his brother standing there naked as the day he was born, he didn't even notice the amusement on Sam's face. He was much too busy taking in the sight of Sam...with his own eyes, untainted by the demonic level of sight he'd had the last time they'd been together this way.

As a demon, Dean had been able to see the heat rolling off of Sam in waves of red and orange. He'd been able to smell the blood that flooded his brother's cock and hear it rushing through his veins. He'd been able to hear the moment Sam's heartbeat skipped and tripled just before he came.

All of those things had been so much, so overwhelming and urgent and made it hard to concentrate on anything but reaching the finish line. But now he could see everything. He could smell Sam—his skin and sweat and the girly shampoo he uses. He could see the hot, blood-filled skin around his hard, leaking cock, without the trippy color display. And he could hear Sam's heavy breathing without it echoing in his ears with the bass beat of his heart pumping too loudly to ignore.

"Get on the bed," Dean told him, voice low. "Hand and knees, baby boy."

Sam nearly tripped onto the bed at the use of that pet name. He couldn't even find it in himself to complain about it. It should've been disturbing, but...something about it made heat flutter low in his stomach. He found himself obeying Dean's order eagerly.

Dean climbed up onto the bed behind his brother, appreciatively taking in the view of Sam's ass as it seemed to gravitate toward him. Dean splayed his hands over the round globes, thumbs pulling them apart to see his tight little hole. "Yeah, baby," Dean said as he kissed down Sam's tailbone. "So tight for me again. Cas keeps re-virginizing you for me..."

"Dude..."

Dean snickered, then licked a stripe over Sam's hole, earning himself a high-pitched groan.

"Damnit, Dean," Sam said breathily, shuddering as his cock twitched between his legs. "Don't talk about Cas when we're doing this..."

"S'matter? You don't think it'd be hot to have a little blue-eyed angel in the middle?" Dean joked, then pressed a spit-slick fingertip into Sam. "Nothin' but a necktie. Maybe cuff him to the bed..."

"Guh! Shut up, dude!" Sam protested, even with Dean's finger twisting and hitting his prostate just right. Dean snickered, amused, but then Sam was pulling away, and Dean suddenly found himself spun onto his back on the bed, Sam straddling him and holding Dean's wrists over his head. "I don't share," Sam told him. "So if you've got a thing for Cas, you better tell me now..."

"Dude, I was just messing with you," Dean said with a laugh. But Sam looked so serious, maybe even scared where he hovered over him, Dean's smile dropped away. "I don't have a thing for Cas, Sam. I promise. Only you," he told him, pulling from Sam's grasp with some effort, and putting his hands on either side of his brother's worried face. "Only you, baby boy," he told him again, then pulled him down to kiss him.

Dean might not have demonic strength anymore, but flipping Sam back over wasn't a problem at all. Soon he was the one straddling Sam, a hand reaching out toward the side table as he kept his mouth locked with Sam's. "Want you so bad, Sammy," he said between kisses. "Need you."

"Yeah...yeah, Dean," Sam agreed, out of breath as he heard the top snap off of the bottle of lube.

"Wanna know what I did all morning?" Dean asked as he pulled away, sitting up as he grabbed onto Sam's cock with a palm-full of lube. "Before I made breakfast?" Sam looked at him curiously, trying to concentrate on the question, but finding it difficult when his brother was stroking him so expertly. Suddenly Dean was up on his knees, his hand holding Sam's cock, aiming it as he hovered there.

"Dean?" Sam questioned, looking up at him.

"Been wanting to feel you in me again since that first time," Dean said as he lowered himself onto Sam.

"Oh fuck..." Sam threw his head back as Dean sunk all the way down in one shot. "Dean! Fuck, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

"No way, baby," Dean replied as he bent back over him, bringing his mouth close to Sam's again. "Made sure I'd be ready for you," he told him. "Was gonna fuck you first, but I just couldn't...fucking...wait..." he said as he began to move, a look of bliss washing over his expression before Sam's eyes.

"Geezus..." Sam breathed as his hands slid down Dean's back, all the way down to where his ass was hugging his cock, allowing his fingers to feel as he slid in and out of him.

"Fuck...Feel so good, Sammy," Dean said as he sat back up and began to ride him. "Gonna make you come. Then I'm gonna fuck you and make you come again. You want that, Sammy? My baby boy want that?"

"Holy fuck..." Sam's eyes squeezed closed, cursing himself for being so turned on by the endearment.

"Shit...yeah, Sammy," Dean cried out as he enthusiastically rode Sam's cock.

Sam forced his eyes open and watched his brother as he writhed above him, and it brought Sam so much closer to the edge than he thought he could possibly be so quickly, he couldn't help but to reach out and grab onto Dean's waist. "God!" Sam shouted, unable to help himself from fucking up into Dean.

"Yeah," Dean encouraged as he met Sam's eyes. "That's it, Sammy. Come on." Dean slid his hands up to pull at Sam's nipples. "Come for me, baby boy," he said, and it sent Sam flying over the edge, his hips fucking so hard up into Dean, it almost knocked him right off the bed.

When Sam's vision cleared, he found Dean squeezing the base of his own cock, no doubt staving off his own orgasm as he slowly dismounted. When Dean moved to get between Sam's legs, pushing them apart and pressing two fingers up into him, Sam yelped. "Fuck, Dean! You tryin' to kill me?"

"Tryin' to fuck you, asshat," Dean growled.

"Yeah I kinda figured that, but what's your hurry?"

"Maybe I wanna see how many times I can make you come in twenty-four hours," Dean said with a smirk.

"So you are trying to kill me," Sam said as his head fell back on the pillow.

"Nah," Dean said with a shrug. "What a way to go though, right?"

"You're an idiot," Sam said with a smile.

"Keep callin' me that, you're gonna gimme a complex."

"Keep calling me 'baby boy' and I'm gonna start wondering about your kinks," Sam shot back, looking up at him as his brother met his eyes.

Dean raised a brow as he poured more lube onto his fingers and pressed a third into Sam. "Didn't hear you complaining," he retorted.

"I was busy," Sam replied too quickly.

"Uh huh," Dean smirked. "Busy being turned on by me callin' you that."

"Shut up..."

"But hey, it's not like I have a baby kink or somethin' weird like that. Not gonna ask you to wear a diaper or let me feed you a bottle. Although...I wouldn't mind makin' you wear some lacy panties around the lair purely for my entertainment."

"I'm not a girl."

"Didn't say you were."

"Besides, I thought you liked wearing them, not having someone else to watch."

"Hey!" Dean's brows pinched. "Don't knock it till you try it, baby boy. They happen to be comfortable. And sexy. And they kinda give you a boner just walkin' around in 'em..."

"See?" Sam said with a grin.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting you some panties," Dean said, ignoring him. "Once you see what I mean, you won't be so quick to make fun of it."

"I'm not going with you to buy those."

"I buy that stuff online, Sammy. Anonymity."

"So you've bought panties online?"

"Not...lately."

"How often do you wear girls' underwear, Dean?" Sam asked with a raised brow.

"Not often," he defended. "Like I said, they give you a boner...all that silk rubbing while you walk, like a hand wrapped around all your junk..."

"Dude..."

"So yeah, not often."

"You're a kinky bastard," Sam said, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

"You sayin' you can't keep up with me?" he asked as he crooked all three fingers right up into Sam's sweet spot.

"Guh!" Sam's hips came up off the bed, his head pressing back on the pillow as his cock began to fill again.

"What's that, baby?" Dean asked again, leaning over him now, his face close to Sam's. "You sayin' you wouldn't walk around in thigh-highs with garter belts on those lacy panties just for me?"

"Mm...N-not a g-girl!" Sam grunted as Dean rhythmically tapped Sam's prostate over and over, stretching and spreading him open at the same time.

"No, you're certainly not a girl," Dean said as he wrapped his free hand around Sam's cock. "But all this would look so pretty in pink..." Dean pressed his lips to Sam's, just for a moment before pulling back to begin trailing kisses down his chest, stomach, hip, and then down to Sam's balls. He stroked Sam's cock as he took a testicle into his mouth, licking, sucking gently before taking the other in as well.

"Geezus!" Sam cried out, hands gripping the sheets on either side of him, toes curling as heels pressed into the mattress. "Dean...god!"

"Mmm... You ready for me, baby boy?" Dean said as he let Sam fall from his mouth.

"Fuck please... Please, Dean," he replied, breath panting from him like he'd been running.

"Begging, too?" Dean smiled. "How'd I ever get so lucky?" Sam growled impatiently and frustrated. "Aww don't be like that," he said as he pulled his fingers gently out of his brother. Sam whined at the loss. "We've all got kinks, Sammy. You must have somethin'. Maybe things you don't even know about yet, huh? Like when I call you baby boy," he smirked as he poured more lube into his palm and rubbed it over his own cock. "We just gotta figure it out as we go, is all. Like...for instance, for me, I kinda like having your come in me," he told him as he lined himself up, then pressed one of Sam's legs behind the knee, pushing it back as he pressed slowly inside. "I like holding it in there, just for a while," he told him. "Didn't think I'd like that, but hell...it's kinda fuckin' hot."

Sam groaned, both at what his brother was telling him, and the feel of Dean's cock slowly filling him, stretching him deliciously and almost painfully. "You...you're so..."

"Irresistible? Awesome?" Dean suggested. "Amazing in bed?"

"Fucking frustrating!" Sam supplied.

"'m I getting you all hot 'n bothered?" he asked with a grin.

"Fuck..."

"Yeah, I think I know one of your kinks for sure," he said and he laid back down over him, pressing fully into Sam before crushing his mouth to his again. Sam's hands abandoned the sheets and grabbed around Dean's back, pressing, pulling, scratching, unsure of what to do exactly except that he wanted to feel him. His legs wrapped around Dean, heels pressing into the hard muscles in the backs of Dean's thighs, feeling them move under him with Dean's efforts as he fucked into him.

Sam was no longer saying words; just sounds, groaning, whining whimpering at the feel of Dean's cock moving inside him, his stomach sliding deliciously over his own cock with every thrust. He struggled for breath as Dean kissed him so hungrily, yet he didn't want him to stop. Then Dean's mouth was suddenly pressing into his neck instead.

"You like dirty talk, huh, Sammy?" Dean whispered through labored breath. "Like when I talk dirty to you. Call you baby boy while you take your big brother's cock so goddamn good..." Sam couldn't help the high-pitched groan that escaped his throat. "Oh fuck yeah, baby," Dean grunted as he began fucking him harder. "Yeah, you like it. Geezus, Sam...so fucking hot."

"De... Dean...fuck...gonna come again...fuck!"

"Yeah, Sammy, c'mon," Dean encouraged, pushing up a little. "Love seein' your come on your skin. Fuckin' gonna come on you, too, baby boy. You want that? Want me to come on your chest? See our come together like that?"

"Oh fuck! Fuck!" Sam shouted, dick twitching so hard it made a sound as it hit Dean's stomach. Ropes of white striped his stomach and chest impressively, even with the load he'd let out not long before.

Dean fucked him through it for as long as he could manage, then scrambled to pull out and climb over Sam, knees on either side of his waist as he stroked himself quickly. Sam's hands trailed up Dean's thighs, watching him intently as his breath struggled to catch up. Then he bit down on his lip, glancing up at Dean with his sudden thought, before slipping his hand back behind Dean's balls, seeking out the still slick hole where Dean claimed to still be holding Sam's come. He pressed two fingers in, and Dean's body jerked, shooting a hand out to support himself from falling onto Sam.

Sam's fingers sought out and quickly found Dean's prostate, his come a convenient lubricant as a fucked his fingers repeatedly into the spot. Dean began a whining groan where he now hovered over Sam, his orgasm so close and so heavy on the precipice, it was almost terrifying.

"C'mon, Dean," Sam said in a low voice. "Come all over your baby brother..."

Dean shouted, almost screamed as he came, he cock feeling like it was exploding, come pouring like a faucet onto Sam's chest and neck, some shooting farther and unaimed onto the pillow beside Sam's face. Which only led Sam to silently laugh when his brother's face planted into it, collapsing from the intensity of his orgasm. Dean didn't seem to notice, though.

Sam held onto him as he laid there, even though the come and sweat that now covered them both was kinda gross. The weight of Dean was comforting and welcome, warm and whole, reminding him that he was really there and that everything was okay now. He loved him so much...So fucking much...

"Love you too, Sammy," Dean said, and Sam realized he must've said that last bit out loud.

He held onto him even harder.

Once they came down from their post-orgasmic high, breathing leveled and bodily fluids now cooling, Dean rolled off of him with a slightly disgusted grunt. "Dude...we definitely need to shower."

"Yeah," Sam agreed as he appraised his own torso.

"Then we definitely need to do that again."

"I get to be on top this time," Sam said, looking to him with a raised brow.

"I have no problem with that," Dean replied.

"I'm considering duct-taping your mouth this time," Sam quipped.

"Another kink, eh?" Dean questioned, the corner of his mouth rising.

"No. Actually it's so you don't make me shoot off like a teenager again," Sam retorted.

"I think it's kinda hot when you do that," Dean shrugged.

"You have too many kinks, man."

"No such thing," Dean told him, then leaned over to give him one more quick kiss before he rolled out of the bed. "Meet me in the shower?" he asked, turning to look back at him once he reached the door.

"Gimme a minute," Sam replied with a soft grin. Dean winked at him, then turned and walked out toward the showers. Sam took a deep, calming breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as he absorbed the wide array of good feelings that were surrounding him. This level of happiness and contentment wasn't something either of them had ever gotten to feel much of. It didn't seem possible that any of it could be real. But it was.

Sam smiled as he opened his eyes, then sat up and pushed out of bed to go meet his brother in the showers...

~The end~


End file.
